I Have His Breath

[headpop]

It was one of those waking dreams you'd swear were the real thing. The sound of breaking glass and everything once deep and intimate in the subconscious mind forgotten.. lost.. to the quiet of that dark room, and it's warmth made loneliness. And then that feeling in the belly of hard reality: A scuffle. A turning of intestine. A mind's search through one's own stink.. One's own privacy. "I remember what that was. That was my magazine that I left on the floor in the living room. He stepped on it!" It sounded like it came from the living room.. And Bobby suddenly realized that it wasn't a dream at all. There there was someone in her house, and that they'd broken the window to get in. "And he's right beside the tv set!" Her mind whispered, turning her whole body into fear.

A burglers drunken and lawless fantasy turns upsidedown. A tennis racket.. a broken jar to the head.. and an awakening into a world of revenge he simply cannot comprehend. The fear is gone. "And I have his breath!"

[headpop]

His waking could not have been any better. Worse than her's. Eyes wide and scared.. and almost covered. Awake but blind. Hands and feet tied. His body turned into squirming worm.. jerking.. and held right by the neck. "Where am I! Where am I! What's happening?" And almost instinctively a pair of underwear covered up what little light there was left in that early early morning night over top his eyes. In that dark living room that she knew so well. "He can't know!" That still scared subconscious whispered and seeped down into the belly while she squeezed tight her legs around his head. Then she felt the scream.. The total fear. The guy probably thought not knowing any better that he was dead.

The living room almost became a place other than her home as she looked around, a curious mind, wondering like anybody would "am I here? is this real?" and letting it sink in the fascination. She became the burlger. The reality on her end.. And under the cover of the darkness she let a smile fill her face.. A look of stealing. She let the fear sink down the spine to the belly.. and to the face. It ain't no small thing to have something like this turn around. From scared to a man's nightmare. It's a big thing. It's a shocking thing. And now? It was becoming a sexy thing..

All that fear got wet. All that anger and hatred got excited.. and turned into a fetish her robber breathing his last breath. Pushing with his mouth and lung a desperate spit. "Pull back." "What?" "Pull back. Pull back pull back pull back! He's going to die!" And the underwear blew upwards at the crotch a gusher of wind and spit. And she listened.. intently. A man utterly terrified. What his mind was saying. The grunts.. the groan.. the starvations..

It was so fascinating.

[headpop]

Again, she rolled forward, muffling the music. Making him struggle in a place he likely never in his whole life knew about. Nor would she let him. And like a funnelling effect, all that fear.. all that worry and terror found it's way down a drain. To his face, where he laid taking it all in. His back arched like a bucking horse that she rode, while she began to feel the sexy nature of it. The way what could have been a nightmare were suddenly a fantasy. Upsidedown.. sideways.. a little bit to the left.

The guy let out a scream so powerful she nearly felt the urge to fall in love with him..